


Wraith

by Miss_Mischievous



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Mental Illness, Psychological, Romance', Sad, unnerving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22279879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mischievous/pseuds/Miss_Mischievous
Summary: This is twilight Esme X Bella. Esme, the sweet & kind matron has finally encountered something rather unsettling. A Wraith. It calls to her like a siren, & lulls her in and out of reality with a cold touch, which appears more warmer than her saint of a husband. Death seems more welcome than her own afterlife and though she reminds herself of how sweet life is, death calls.
Relationships: Esme Cullen/Bella Swan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ***Arthur’s Note: Hello to those who read. This is just a little test run of a story, that I’ve been sitting on. Because of that there may be some changes, depending on my mood. So, I apologize in advance if that is a little jarring*****  
> ****Arthur’s Note2 : I’m giving credit where credit is due. Stephanie Myer’s characters are her own, and while I am getting a lot of inspiration from her and her stories, I do not want any trouble.***

_Hmm, such a sweet little bird you are. My little bird. All alone in this bleak world… my bleak world… I’ll keep her close only because she’s precious. Mmm, Her hair is so soft, for such a Sprit thing…._

Her hands ran down the raven haired girl’s head. Gently, running over her pale heart shaped face, gliding over her soft cheeks, where trails of blood had departed from her eyes. The wetness, no longer warm, but cool and black and….

_I wonder how it would taste?_

Her thumb gently swirled in a circular motion over one of the blood trail’s on the girl’s face. The blood, nearly dry and old, chipped.

_Mmm?_

The girl’s chest rose shakenly, her eyelids twiched, but she remained unconcious as she heaved a sigh,or hushed gasp for air. Who knows she was bloody battered.

“Oh, My tastes just like chocolate,” mumbled the woman as she placed a chipped, and slighlty soggy piece of blood on her tongue.

_Hmmm_

She reached down to touch those soft, pale lips which had moments earlier seemed full of song. Pink flesh below cold, well manicured nails, gave way…

_Too bad for that bottom lip is just out of balance. It really does take from the asethetic doesn’t it?_

After the thought passed, the woman’s fingers trembled. They paused before the opening of the girl’s mouth-

_If her blood is of chocolate, I wonder how sweet…-_

The girl’s chest rose again, and the movement interrupted the woman’s thought. A pale pink nip, had fallen out of place. It stood bright and out of place, in contrast to the worn and dingy, white hospital gown…

_Would it be just as sweet, or sweeter if-_

Her hand jetted, hovered, and quivered over the exposed bud. Her heart, raced-or would had her’s could beat-as she contemplated her next move.

Sudenly, the girl’s eyes opened and-

“ESME,” snapped Rosalie. How long are you going to stand there, Carlisle has been calling you for over five minutes, She continued annoyed.

“Sorry, I…,” ESME mumbled

“Rosalie, would it be possible for you to be less, abrasive,” replied Edward.

Rosalie replied, perhaps. But, Esme again became lost in that dream. Or thought about it a lot.

The edges of her world, continued to flicker, circle, and spiral in a dream like haze and it became harder and harder to remain attached…

Esme left the room in a silent huff. The arguing was nothing new, her children-Edward and Rosalie in particular-were prone to fighting like wolves. But, today was not the day. She needed-

The image of the exposed breast, and bloodied face appeared within her mind. As she exited the house, she nodded to Jasper who sat on the couch, and pondered the whereabouts of her youngest, Alice….

_I suppose a trip the the hospital would be much needed…. I can check with Carlisle to see if we need anymore blood, while everyone has adjusted well…I_

Her thought stopped on Jasper, who while progressing well, managed to have the occasional slip up. But, heaven forbidden she outwardly questioned him.

She’d had had enough with hurting her her husband, hurting her other…

The feeling of touching the girl’s bottom lip zigged through her mind as she touched the front knob-

This isn’t for her, not for her, I need the blood for….

Suddenly, the circle of vision she’s been maintaining began to tighten, and darken. Jasper must have risen from the couch, for as ESME began to fall, a pair of male hands steadied her from behind-

_Jas…I,_ she tried to speak. But no words would leave her.

“ESME! SHIT, AGAIN?”- Ah, that must be Rose…

_I’m so sorry ROSE-_ She thought to herself.

“We need to call, Carlisle,” Called her favorite son-Edward….

_No, no, no, just leave me. She thought as the world began to dark and fade from her._

The girl in the dingy, hospital gown appeared before her again.

“ _Ah, you look much better, now how are you_ ,” Questioned Esme.

The girl smiled, that full bottom lip jutting out slightly, tilted her head, and replied. But, no sound escaped.

Esme, paused and tilted her own head, wondering if perhaps something was wrong with her…But, it was incredibly odd, or rather wrong considering vampires never got sick.

As she pondered this, the girl took two steps before Esme. Her gown slipping away, revealing those soft mounds. They were round, and full creating the shape of perfect heart. Her nipples neither small nor large pointed up and out. It made Esme blush-if she could that was. And yet, though they’ve met often enough, she still turned her head away.

Nevertheless, this girl, this child reached out with her seemingly human hands, and puller Esme’s face up. The term ‘seemingly’ be used loosely, because while the flesh of the girl’s hands felt as soft, and fragile as a human’s there was no heat….

Only Cold.

“You’re cold,” Blurted Esme in Shock.

The girl, still nude continued to smile with her head titled. Her body still and willowy.

And Esme admired. Her curves were soft and gentle, like Venus herself. Hips jutting out, but not too far, she was just a girl afterall-17, was it? But, the thought was interrupted as she placed her forehead on Esme’s

_Cold again,_ Esme thought.

She tried to step back, but girl’s hand was firm. It was actually firm?! But the girl continued her advance, staring at her with those deep cholocate eyes.It made Esme, embarrased and she turned if she could, but she was frozen.

Those lips parted, her eyes feel down to the girl’s navel, there was a beauty mark there…

“What a pretty button,” she mumbled.

The girl’s breath, hushed blew across her face…And cooler than her hands. Blew upon her face a soft floral scent. Orange, Freesia, and…

Her lips parted-

Esme thought the girl would kiss her-

But instead, her head moved away from Esme’s own, and moved to the side. To the left of her ear.

She trailed a surprisingly, hot, wet tongue along her ear. Blew slightly at it, causing Esme to shiver, and whispered,

“Though, these dreams are filled with sweets, nothing becomes more sweeter after hardship, then Death’s final embrace…”

And with that the darkness, which had been encrouching for the longest time, rappidly raced upon Esme. The girl turned, revealing a matching heart shaped rear. Her shoulder’s slumped, and her body began to glow, soft and pearly within the dark.

And the dark siezed her.

_NO!_


	2. Breathlessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She closes, her eyes. Trailing her hand down her lavender blouse, feeling the softness of the silk. The grouves of the flesh on her, vampire thumb, catching and counting each micro stitch of the blouse. Counting her breathes, and imagining the runnings of her home.
> 
> Esme is empty, alone, and desperate to fill the void, so much so her body quivers and pulsates with her rising need for another's empathetic touch...if only to break her gentle image, would it truly be wrong to reach out and feel good, for once?

Tap, tap, tap…runs Esme’s pen, as she pours over some new blueprints for a tudor home she’s had her eye on.  
“I don’t know what to do. Nothing feels right,” she says to herself, while clutching her left breast. No beat, no breath, just the stillness of a vampire.  
If she could, Sleep would be a warm welcome. The soft down her bed looks comforting right about now, but the only thing close enough to sleep, would be meditation.   
Huff  
She closes, her eyes. Trailing her hand down her lavender blouse, feeling the softness of the silk. The grouves of the flesh on her, vampire thumb, catching and counting each micro stitch of the blouse. Counting her breathes, and imagining the running of her home. Her two youngest sons, Jasper and Emment sparring off in the yard; Rosalie and Alice mutely running over some of Alie’s new sketches; and Edward by the southern window reading a book…I think it was Kafka’s Metamorphsis?   
She continues to feel the fabric, not realizing that her thumb and index finger have paused. Her knuckles, tensed, rub against the fabric of her navel, as she tries to fill the silence of her home with memories of her children.   
The thumb flicks-POP!  
A button falls. Esme, pauses in her ministrations. Takes an unnecessary breath, and reaches down to pick up the button. Today was supposed to be theirs. But, I guess Carlisle doesn’t care…  
She stares down at the button, her chest feels tight. She sighs, contemplating joining her children at mount Rainer for a game of baseball, but if she does it will only reveal-No, maybe she should wait a bit more for Carlisle.   
She twists the button this way and that, her hair spilling carmel over her shoulder. She reaches her other hand, the right, to her lips, and falls back into her office chair, tracing her lips….  
Let’s think happy thoughts, sweet thoughts. Carlisle comes home hanging his Jacket on the rack. Places his leather Attachee on the table. A warm smile lights up his face, as the shadows from thirst stand in contrast. And like Lucy’s Husband-from I love Lucy-Carlisle says, “ Honey, I’m home”.  
Twist, click, her nail diggs into the button, chipping it-where is He?  
Esme shakes her head, sighs, and continues the fantasy.   
“I’m home, Monkey. I’m sorry for being so late.” I’ll race into his arms, and hug, talking too much is silly. Besides, I miss his scent.  
Ahh He smells a little bit like Bleach…and Blood. I guess another operation.   
Her throat, clenches up and a dry burn enters, her throat, but she clutches him harder. I miss, his warmth.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, Monkey. I Just got out of operation. Would you care to join me for a shower, We can depart, for a show after? I know you’ve been wanting to see Madama Butterfly, He says with a smile on his face.”  
She’d smile in retrun, with her breath still held. He’d leave her to get ready, and she’d hold him tighter.   
“Just one moment, please, ” She’d whisper as she stands on her tip toes to reach his ear. With a slight inhale, the scent so sweet, yet marred by chemical’s would make her humm. She’d press herself closer to his chest, and before, he can place his hand’s back on her waist, she’d kiss him on the neck, just below the ear. His favorite spot.   
He’d chuckle, and swing her bridle style into his arms, racing upstairs…

Then he’d-Ring, ring, ring, ring- her phone jars her out of her reverie. Her thumb and index finger snap down on the button, finally breaking it.  
She looks down. It’s Carlisle. She clenches, her teeth. Sighs, dropping the pieces of the button onto the floor. Normally, she’d clean and race to repair the damage, not that that was nescessary, but her upbrining deemed it unright to destroy perfectly good clothing…the thought pauses.  
The phone, rings. She looks up it’s 8:30PM. Guess he’s not coming back. This was normal after all. 8PM or later, means he’s not coming. She stands’s, shutters, and thinks of just leaving his calls. But, she can’ts. Her chest shutters, making her feel a painful warmth, pool behind her eyes. But, there are not tears to shed. It’s a tight and bitter feeling in her throat.  
She picks up: “Esme, are you home?”  
She pauses, holding her breath, and touching her lips with her index finger. A silent reminder not to be rash. Carlisle is a good man after all.  
“ Monkey,” he calls.  
“ Yes, dear? I’m terribly sorry, I was a bit preoccupied with something,” She replies cheerily. Not a sign that she was hunched over in her leather, seat, holding one hand over her stomach and the other paused above her mouth. Another reminder, needed. But, she can’t muffle her speech by placing it on her mouth.

“ Oh, is it that Tudor Home. I’m terribly sorry, I couldn’t come to look at it. I’m sure that it will be ok. Why don’t you take a break from that-“  
“ Break,” she shakenly replies in question.  
He pauses, takes a deep breath, and replies, “yes. You’re always working so hard around the house, “ “ Or on another house,” nervously laughs.   
Mmm, she thinks. Her Finger now placed on her lips. The warmth intensifies behind her eyes, her lips quiver, and she looks down. Hair pools on either side of her face, as she turn the lamp off her bureau-waiting….  
“ Esme, Monkey, I’m afraid I can’t make it, for that show-“  
“ It’s fine, dear,” she interrupts.  
“ Ah, no…well, it’s really not, it’s just-“  
“ It really is fine, I know how important your work is-“  
“ it’s really not more important than you, Esme. But-I,” He tries to find the words.  
“ It’s fine,” replies as she looks up, at her darkened ceiling. “ I know you love me, and We can do something another time, “ She tries to say cheerily.   
There’s another pause, as Carlisle goes Ah.  
Esme, laughs, and replies to this, “ Besides we have eternity together. People need your work and need you.”  
Carlisle, makes to make another reply. But, Esme persists…she’s flying elsewhere.  
I need to get out, I need to get out, she continually thinks.  
Exiting the bureau, with forced calmess, she provides her loving husband, with reassurences and promises to try again later. Pausing before their shared bathroom. Her heart, at least in her imagination, hammers, like a sledge hammer on ice. The ice doesn’t give way, and so her arms reverbrate. 

Her phone conversation ends, and she drops the phone. It slides across the carrara marble. Black plastic on white coldness. Ironic considering the moving galatea-like statue there. But, her heart and gasping breaths reminder her that while her body is no longer, warm, soft and pliant. She’s still human—  
HAHAHAHA!, she laughs, making a move to hit her head on the shower door. But, pauses. No damage, no evidence. There would not be a crack on this wall, nor on my façade.   
She turns placing her back to the wall by the door. Sliding down, her violet blouse gathers up on her back.arching her back and head, she places her hands on her face, and wipes each hand on either side of her face, slowly whiping away…  
Pleasant thoughts…pleasant thoughts, think pleasant thoughts….  
She closes, her eyes.   
Counting her breathes again, and imagining the runnings of her home. Her two youngest sons, Jasper and Emment sparring off in the yard; Rosalie and Alice mutely running over some of Alcie’s new sketches; and Edward by the southern window reading a book…I think it was Kafka’s Metamorphsis…  
Mmm, yes, yes…  
She begins to rise, slowly undoing the buttons of her blouse.   
Edward’s piano, begins to play in the background of her mind, and she reaches for her phone, as the tub fills. Syncing the her phone with the bluetooth Stereo in the bathroom, she playsa sweet melody. It echo’s against the accoustics of the marble bathroom. And she reaches for her husband’s soap, deciding to make a bath of it thinking the scent of Sage and Bergamot would ease her mind.  
It’s deep, and masculine. The vibrations, shakings, and like begin to stop. And it grows dark.  
The edges grow darker and darker, her hands rest, above her lace, lavender colored bra. Her nipples exposed to the heat from the bath, poke through…

And it’s too much, The world is sharp, and clear, and she’s alone. She races to her room, grabbing a cashmere white sweater. Then she races to the restroom, recalling that she left the tub running, draining the fluid as she hastedly, fixes her hair into a pony-tail and out the door she runs, runing anywere, away. Just…any where.  
Anywhere, anywhere, anywhere,  
AHHHH, FUCK, Fuck, Fuck…  
I can’t….


	3. Etheral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hi Y'all. Hope everyone is fairing well with the quarantine. Been struggling with some personal stuff so I apologize for the delay. nonetheless, I hope you can enjoy this brief update.

_It’s painful to pretend…To carry on, as if nothing were-_

Huff, huff, huff. Her breathes resound. Utterly useless, nothing to expend nor gain.

_It hurts…tears will not fall, but the branches do, huh? Beneath diamond feat and designer pumps…_

CRACK!

She falls… there goes another pair of fine shoes…Before she begins to fall as another human would, She kicks off the broken shoe, kicking up a fallen branch. And following in suit, she kicks the other to re-establish her equilibrium.

She continues running, forcing herself to focus on the present…Forcing out heavy breaths

Huff, huff, huff. One breath, two breaths-

Crack-

A small tree limb falls, catching and tearing at her Cashmere sweater.  
  


Her softly, rounded waist, pale and white becomes exposed. But she pushes farther, imagining instead how it’d feel to be cut, had she been human. The moist, branch would shed a little bark as it crumbles away. But with it’s dense shape, it’d had, had enough force to rip through the sweater.

Her waiste, soft from being a mother, or would be one, would give without much force. Tugginging in on herself. The branch…

_Yes…Oh, yes…_

Would push in moving, soft fleshy membrane into her, like a finger-a dark-dense rounded one with thornes-it would swipe across an initially soft line of pink. Then liquid would seep.

_Like sap, would it be like sap-?_

Huff, huff, huff…

Crack, there goes another-

_Its rather strong, this one, isn’t it?_

She yanks another one which began to cling, and in turn the tree to which it was attached. But, Esme-She needed to keep running. So, she gripped the branch before again, tripping as a human would, and tore it away from herself. Sendning the slight little thing falling…

 _Another tear, another seam to repair_ , she thought idly-

_Esme, Perhaps you should return, we can talk- she imagines her-_

_Nothing, nothing nothing. FOCUS!_

There’s a blue hue, like a pale blue with a soft shadow settling over everything, and the scenary is like a black canvas in which the soft glow of moss, paints it like an abstract painting…

Highlighting the branches dully before human eyes. Like ghostly hands reaching up from dark earth, littered in brown from the fallen leaves.

But, before her mind it was sharp…

_So, sharp._

_Into her torn trouser. Bites, her lips, and runs a nail along the pale, cream flesh, causing a fissure to appear before her._

_Hahaha, no blood, no pain, it doesn’t exist…_

_Huff, huff, huff,_ she exhales to return to her equilibrium-

For just a moment, she disappears within the softly twilight twinged forest. Thinking of him, Carlisle…

Her eyes prick, and she feels tears gather, but they wouldn’t fall… So, she decides to fall instead…

101, 102, 103 breaths-The scene blurs and spins green moss on dark canvas.

She falls hard onto a mossy branch, intially it resists, but due to her speed, the momentum forces it to give.

CRACK- it reverbrates.

She twists, not wanting to get dirt and forest debris caught in her face, and lays there. Watching a couple of birds caw, in surprise from the noise. Looks watching soft, puffs of grey cloud pass gently, and she thinks of him again…

Esme, I’m sorry had I known I’d-

Placing a finger to her lips, she shudders, and reminds herself to shut up. He’s ok, You’re OK. You have a loving family so leave it me.

The pricking feeling intensifies. She shudders, and slips a the finger into her mouth. Moistening it, and tasting it. Plain, and cold. Like a Cement block really. But, she wants it, wants his warmth, his voice, his scent.

She shudders again, a soft sob leaves her, and a gentle wind gently caresses her carmel hair…

SHUT UP. Just please, She screams, scaring some nearby nesting chipmonks.

Then she hears it. A soft whistle. The kind reserved for a sarcastic wow…

It jolts Esme up, and she hugs her breasts to herself, as the branch from earlier had torn the fabric at her bust.

In a whirl. She stands, patting the dirt off as she scanns the for-

She’s not in a forest…she’s at the edge, by the road…


End file.
